The Princess of Theed
by Initial A
Summary: A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away... a young lieutenant fell in love with a princess as an Empire began to crumble. Takes place during the latter years of the Galactic Empire, through the rebellion and Galactic Civil War. {Star Wars AU} {Lieutenant Duckling AU} {Prompt Fill Fic}
1. Chapter 1

**Not all chapters have specific dates attached, and it's definitely not in chronological order, sorry. Some do, as well as mentioned ages, so you can kind of figure out how old they are and when. Like Amidala, Emma started her political career young. She's only 18 when the Battle of Yavin occurs and the civil war breaks out.**

 **Names have been adjusted to fit the universe. Prompts all come from The Lieutenant Duckling Network on Tumblr.**

 **Prompt 1: "I have to tell you something. I'm not who you think I am." 300-500 words.**

* * *

"Lieutenant!"

Lieutenant Killianul Joneswise of the Royal Naboo Security Forces turned at the sound of her voice. His heels came together automatically with a smart click, back straightening as he saluted Emmaala Swanraa, handmaiden to the Princess of Theed. "Lady Swanraa," he greeted, making her giggle.

"Killian, we're the only ones here." Emma gestured to the empty courtyard around them. She lowered the hood of her velvet cloak, revealing the intricately braided hairstyle she always wore: a symbol of her place. "No need to be so formal."

He relaxed into a parade rest. "It's bad form, milady. My ship would be taken from me if one of my superiors saw me."

She inclined her head, a small smile on her lips. "Many things would be difficult if someone were to see us," she said softly.

"Milady?" Killian asked. They often met in secret, due to her status and need for discretion - a handmaiden to the Princess could not often afford to be seen out and away from her mistress. But ever since they'd met during a military review from Queen Kylantha and the Princess Cygni some months ago, the two had been drawn to one another. Occasional official meetings were never enough, leading to secret messages and secluded meetings such as this.

Emma drew a deep breath, wringing her hands. "Killian, I have to tell you something. I'm not who you think I am."

His brows furrowed as he sat on a stone bench, motioning for her to sit as well. "Emma, what do you mean? Are you not an aide to Her Highness?" She shook her head. His confusion mounted. "I don't understand. You've stood beside Her Majesty and Her Highness. Are you part of the Apprentice Legislature? Another youth political group?"

She shook her head at each question, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She reached under her cloak, under her gown, drawing out a long necklace: a fine golden chain on which a golden, jewel-encrusted disk hung. Killian grew still at the sight, not needing to look closer to know what the crest meant. Emma's voice shook as she explained, "Killian, I'm not a handmaiden to Princess Cygni. I _am_ Princess Cygni."


	2. Chapter 2

**Prompt #2: "Emma is visiting the docks and giving a certain lieutenant flirty eyes. Killian, however, thinks the eyes are for the soldier next to him." 500 words or less**

* * *

Seeing her now, Lieutenant Joneswise wondered how he could have missed it. He knew the handmaidens and valets often switched places with their masters when there was justifiable safety concerns - they were trained and registered in the RSF as he was. Yet under the political face paints - even _with_ their resemblance - none of her handmaidens had quite the same quirk to her smile, or the same flirty glimmer in her eyes as the Princess did.

Flirty glimmers that were currently being directed at his Corporal, standing just to his left.

Killian kept his feelings sequestered as the Princess reviewed the latest additions to the capital's water defenses. He'd volunteered his pilot crew for the honor of escorting the Princess to the docks. Standard protocol: though they met with the Navy, there would be Imperial soldiers nearby. The RSF didn't trust the Empire near their people, not after the questionable deaths of Senator Amidala and Captain Typho fifteen years before.

Killian tried to turn his attentions to the Empire's checkpoint, keeping an eye on the Imperial Stormtroopers as the Navy crew answered the Princess' questions. "You seem quite taken with the ship, Corporal," Princess Cygni said, her voice teasing. "Perhaps Lieutenant Joneswise should approve a transfer order from our space defenses to naval defenses."

Hot envy spilled through his veins at the attention his underling received from her, matched in strength at the awe he felt for his own stupidity. Even her political voice, more polished and precise, should have tipped him off to Emma's true identity. To his left, his Corporal was stammering a response, intimidated by her; Killian seethed quietly. The Princess - _Emma_ \- did not deserve a stammering fool, she deserved -

Her eyes flicked to his, the flirtatious edge to them replaced with affection and amusement. His irritation deflated, replaced with shame: she wasn't flirting with the Corporal, she was merely teasing him for his nerves - and Killian himself for being foolish enough to feel envious.

The Princess deserved someone less rash than he.

Fifteen minutes later, another Imperial ship docked at the checkpoint, making Killian's nerves sing. "If I may speak freely, Your Highness, I suggest we return to the manor," he murmured.

He watched her eyes dart to the Imperial dock and back, a flash of fear quickly shoved aside. "Thank you, Lieutenant, I nearly forgot I have a meeting," Princess Cygni said smoothly, raising her hand for her attendants. "Captain, I thank you for the tour."

Bows were made, and Killian took his place on point for the short walk back to the royal manor. At the gates, her personal security took over, and he and his crew made their bows. As she slipped past him, she discretely pressed a folded piece of parchment in his hand.

He waited until he was back in his quarters later that night to read the message: _"Tomorrow, the unused practice courts behind the royal menagerie. (You're adorable when you're jealous) - E.C.S."_


	3. Chapter 3

**Prompt: "Emma finds out she is pregnant with Killian's child. They had never talked about having kids, so she's trying to gauge his thoughts and opinions before she tells him the news." 500 words or less.**

 **Takes place in 4 ABY, after the death of Emperor Palpatine.**

* * *

This was completely ridiculous. She was the _Princess_ , yet the Imperial Stormtroopers insisted that this house arrest was for her own safety. What lunacy. Emma paced her chambers in a fit of pent-up aggravation, wishing her handmaidens were around to talk to, but no, _all_ RSF forces had been taken into custody after the uprising...

If she stopped pacing, she'd start thinking. And thinking meant worry about Killian. Worry about Killian meant...

Her hand drifted to her stomach, the faintest of bumps visible if one looked too closely. The medic droids had confirmed her suspicions the morning of the uprising, the morning many soldiers and Gungans had seemingly lost their minds and manned an unorganized uprising in celebration of the death of the Emperor. One Gungan had foolishly declared Naboo's freedom - Emma didn't want to think about his fate.

The door to her suite opened. She glanced up, her irritation growing at the sight of two Stormtroopers. "Yes?"

"The Commander has allowed the release of those found as non-participants in the uprising, Princess Cygni," one of them said. "A few are being released into your custody."

They stood back, allowing her four handmaidens to walk in, looking shaken but otherwise fine, and after them -

Emma's feet moved before her head could catch up, dashing into her lover's arms as the doors closed behind him. "Killian," she breathed as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

"My love, I am so sorry -"

"Don't," she interrupted. "It wasn't your fault, it's fine."

She drew a shaky breath. For days she'd wondered how to tell him, how he'd react. This was hardly the ideal time to bring a child into the world, but perhaps there never was. She realized he was talking softly, murmuring about decisions to join the Alliance fully, offering his services to bring the galaxy-wide civil war to a close, and her heart almost stopped beating. "Killian, wait," she pleaded, pulling back. "Just... please. Before you go off to the Outer Rim, just... She swallowed hard against her nerves. "If you go off and get yourself killed, I will never forgive you for leaving me to raise our child alone."

His eyes widened. "You're..."

She nodded. "I found out the day you had to go and get yourself arrested."

Suddenly her feet were lifted from the ground as he spun her in a circle, light in his eyes and laugh-lines framing them. Emme couldn't recall a time he smiled brighter. There was a war on and her handmaidens may have been watching with amusement, but for the moment nothing else mattered but Emma and Killian.


	4. Chapter 4

**Combined two prompts: "You could have just taken the stairs." "Emma and Killian are courting, but they must always have a guard with them whenever they go out together. One day, they find a way to ditch the guard." 500 words or less.**

* * *

With the formal announcement of their courtship, her disguise became useless. It wouldn't do for Lieutenant Joneswise to be seen cavorting around Theed with another woman, let alone one of the Princess' handmaidens - and even then, some of the more astute citizens would quickly put two and two together.

It was infinitely irritating, but she was just as tired of sneaking around as he was.

More irritating was the insistence that all of their time together be spent in the company of her personal guards. Oh, she knew the reasoning. Captain Panaka's enthusiastic rise to Moff of the Chommell sector led to some suspicion by the RSF of internal Empire spies. Her infrequent secret meetings with the resistance leaders confirmed the suspicions as truths. So they did what they could to thin the information trade, including rotating troops with increasing frequency.

But Killian wasn't an Empire spy. He _couldn't_ be.

If he was, she'd kill him herself.

But today was too much. She absolutely could not pretend that she could keep her hands to herself today, or listen to her guard for the day chuckle at stories he or she wasn't supposed to overhear. (Or watch Killian's jaw clench and his hands clasp behind his back in an effort to maintain a good appearance.) So she sent Elsá with a message for Killian to meet her outside at sundown, and went to work making up Kathreen to look like the Princess.

It was almost too easy.

Emma made sure her cloak was up. Elsá's job was clear: tell anyone who came to check that the Princess wasn't to be disturbed and Kathreen had gone to lay down with a migraine. Emma was sure the whole thing would fall to pieces instantly, but it would be worth it for a few minutes alone.

She peeked over the edge of her balcony; the way was clear so far, but hopefully Killian would be meeting her soon. She attached the hook of her grappling gun to the rail, and took a deep breath, gathering her courage. She swung herself out and over the edge, letting the line lower her down.

Halfway down, the line jammed. Emma panicked, her sweaty grip not helping the situation in the least, and smacked the side of the gun, hoping it would loosen the reel. No such luck. She cursed under her breath, looking to judge how far it would be to drop, how much it would hurt. Maybe twenty feet at most? Did people break limbs from twenty feet?

Footsteps in the courtyard startled her. "Shit," she muttered.

She was in luck: it was Killian. "Killian!" Emma whisper-shouted.

His eyes widened and he raced over. "Emma, what the bloody hell -"

She grinned and pressed the release on the grappling hook, letting herself fall hard into his arms. They toppled to the ground, landing with twin grunts of surprise. "You know, you could have just taken the stairs," Killian said breathlessly.

"And miss all this adventure?" Emma teased.


	5. Chapter 5

**Prompt: "Killian attends his first private dinner with King David, Queen Snow, and Princess Emma (i.e. not a royal party where everyone and their cousin is invited)." 500 words or less**

* * *

For two people from the same planet, they couldn't have come from more different backgrounds. Emma grew up in a small village in the mountains, surrounded by forests and cliffs. To hear her tell it, she spent most of her childhood up a tree or scaling a rock wall. He hailed from a fishing village in the lake country, where he and his brother spent as much time in the water as a Gungan might. The nails of her thumbs were always painted white in the tradition of her people; his earbob represented his coming of age in the tradition of his. They shared wistful dreams of leaving the capital for a time to visit each other's childhood homes, but neither of their careers left much time for such a journey.

Emma had met his brother Liám, who was stationed for now in the capital with the Royal Navy, but Killian had never met Emma's family. She said she had a younger brother - several years younger - and both parents still. His own parents had died when he was quite young. He wondered what kind of people her parents were, to encourage Emma's political service.

It would be a year or so before he found out.

Theed was abuzz with business as many village leaders descended upon the capital to treat with the Queen. Busy with extra security duties as he was, Killian had to hear from her guards that Emma was hosting her parents in the manor. A message was delivered later in the week, inviting him to dinner at the manor with Emma and her parents.

Killian's insides were twisted with nerves as he was announced. He bowed low, brushing a kiss against her knuckles. "Your Highness," he murmured.

"No need to be so formal, Killian," Emma said softly.

"Good form, milady. And I'd like to make a good impression."

Over dinner, Killian found that aside from the obvious shared traits, Emma inherited her stubbornness from Davíd and her kind heart from Snow. The three of them commanded the attention of the room effortlessly, all of them born leaders. Killian found himself wondering how to suggest to his fellows that they might make allies for the Separatist cause of Snow and Davíd, how easily they would command the rebel forces if necessary.

Once or twice over dinner - which he felt was going rather well - Emma would catch his eye and wink at him. The second time, Davíd saw and raised his brows at both of them. Snow saw Davíd's expression and laid her hand over her husband's. Emma had drink from her goblet quickly to stifle her giggles.

It was easy to see how Emma had found her path in life. And Killian could only be glad, for it had led her to him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Prompt: "Why are you still here?" 100 words or less.**

* * *

 _"Why are you still here?"_

Silence hangs heavy, the only light in the small room coming from the hologram on the table. Emma couldn't meet his eyes. "Shouldn't you be getting more guards to arrest me? Rebellion sympathizer and all?" she asked bitterly.

"Emma." Killian sounded broken as she saw him fumbling with his glove. "Love, I can't arrest you."

"I'm a traitor to the Empire, of course you can."

He peeled his glove away and shoved his arm into the light. Tattooed under his hand was the Marek family crest. Emma sucked in a breath. "I'd have to arrest me, too," Killian explained softly.


	7. Chapter 7

**Prompt: "You should smile more." 500 words or less.**

 **Takes place in 2 ABY**

* * *

"If you haven't noticed, Killian, there's a war happening," Emma snapped.

She resisted the urge to run her hand over her face, which would completely ruin her ceremonial makeup, which would mean she'd have to go back and have it completely redone, which would be another hour and a half taken away from figuring out this refugee situation -

Killian took her hand, running his thumb across her knuckles. Emma breathed out slowly, watching him trace the intricate indigo designs over her fingers. She could almost feel her tension flowing out of her as he played with first one hand, then the other. She didn't know how he managed it, always figuring out the fastest way to calm her down. "How do you do that?" she asked quietly.

That crooked grin. She loved that crooked grin of his. "Realigning your balance with the Force, of course."

Emma couldn't hide her grin, shoving him lightly while she giggled. "You don't know anything about the Force, Killian."

"Oh, no? So I'm not being tempted to the Dark Side by my feelings for you, then?" Killian asked, still grinning in that stupid, perfect, crooked way.

She reached up, cupping his cheek, praying that the chill seeping through her veins didn't show on her face. "Killian, don't joke about such things."

He kissed her palm, and she noticed for the first time the lines at the corners of his eyes. At twenty-two years old, he should hardly have such features - but then, she knew she had lines of her own at twenty. She'd heard that war aged a person far beyond their years. It was something she'd hoped was one of those lies adults told children to discourage dreams of growing up too fast. His eyes - blue, blue, blue like the skies in a cloudless day in the countryside - found hers again. "Aye, though I brought a smile to your face, did I not?"

She wanted to shove him again, but he had a point. "You did."

"You're welcome, Your Highness," Killian said, inclining his head in a mock bow.

Emma thumbed the scar on his cheek, a sardonic smile playing on her lips. "Always so formal, Lieutenant Joneswise."


	8. Chapter 8

**Prompt: Based on a photo of a boy draping his shirt around a girl's shoulders while they're sitting on the shore of a lake. 350 words or less.**

* * *

"I'm glad we did this," Emma admitted softly.

It had been hell to work out their schedules and secure leave, not to mention the security needed (there were Imperial spies everywhere, even in his home village). But seeing her surrounded by people and places he had grown up with was worth it.

Secluded as the lake country was, it had been deemed safe to stay in the modest home he and Liám still owned. In the mornings, they'd run out onto the dock and leap into the freezing waters, shrieking and splashing one another until their lips were blue. They'd take warm baths, browse the marketplace for lunch supplies, and then wander the countryside for hours.

"Me too," Killian admitted, watching a distant herd of shaak.

The wind picked up, ruffling her damp hair and making her shiver. She laughed through chattering teeth, rifling her fingers through it to fluff it out. "We should have stuck closer to home today, it's chilly," she commented, and his heart leapt at how she called the Joneswise house ' _home_ '. "I'm going to get sick and the whole capital will know it wasn't Elsá who took the trip out..."

He smiled, trying to soothe his pulse. "Well, we can't have that, your highness," Killian said, shrugging out of his jacket. He tried not to preen at the way her eyes followed the line of his arms, tracing his biceps.

He settled his jacket around her shoulders; it dwarfed her, de-aging her by years - she actually looked seventeen and carefree, not the distant, calculating, ageless politician she strove to be. He loved her in any guise, but he may have found a particular manifestation that he favored above all the others. She wrapped his jacket around her further, sighing happily, and then leaned against his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head as he draped his arm around her. _I love you,_ he thought, the words on the tip of his tongue and absolutely, completely forbidden.

 _Someday, my love..._


	9. Chapter 9

**Prompt: "Marry me." 350 words or less.**

* * *

" _Now?!_ " Killian asked, incredulous. He leaned around a pole firing off a quick round of shots at a Stormtrooper before ducking behind his cover. "We're in the middle of liberating the planet from the Empire, and you're asking me to marry you _now?!_ "

"We're liberating our planet while I am five months pregnant with _your child_ , when _else_ am I supposed to ask?" Emma demanded, holding up a mirror to check enemy positions behind her before firing her own blaster.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him look skywards in exasperation. "Don't get me started on that again," Killian shouted over a nearby explosion.

Emma snorted. "Like you could keep me away from this!" She doubted very much she'd be allowed to sit peacefully in the manor and await the Battle for Theed to be finished. She'd be whisked away somewhere safe, or taken hostage or something. She was the Princess, she was with child, she was a rebel leader: everything about her screamed _valuable_.

(Part of her also knew that while she was a valuable hostage, she posed such a threat to the Empire that none of the Moffs would shed a tear if she were 'accidentally' killed in custody.)

Though, actually, if that second explosion said anything, she didn't have much of a manor to go home to anymore.

Killian dove towards her and rolled out of the way of a droid blaster, firing off kill shots in quick succession. He knelt, pulling her to him. "Aye, I'll marry you, you bloody, barvy, amazing woman," he told her, sealing it with a kiss. They were sweaty, covered in grime, and she knew the burn on his arm from where he'd been grazed by a blaster had to be killing him - but for them, this was the perfect engagement. He bumped his forehead against hers when they parted. "Let's survive this first, yeah?"

Movement behind him caught her eye. She raised her blaster and shot down the Stormtrooper intending to ambush them. "Good thing I've got your back," she breathed, grinning.


	10. Chapter 10

_I'm combining two, they make the most sense that way in my head. Aaaaaaaaaand since one is a 500 word and the other is 350, I'm combining those too! I will take my world-building where I can. This takes place in 5 BBY, during the first year of Emma's rule as Princess. She's thirteen._

 ** _Princess Emma wants to learn how to sword fight, so who do you think she asks to teach her?  
_**

 ** _"Better a broken hand than a broken heart."_**

* * *

Emma experimentally twirled the archaic weapon in her hand. _This is ridiculous_ , she thought, eyeing the sword with distaste. _A civilization as advanced as ours and we resort to... to sharp edges and metal!_

At least plasma beam weapons immediately cauterized wounds. These primitive blades did no such thing, leaving an enemy to bleed to death unless a medic droid was nearby. It was barbaric. She understood the principle of learning such a weapon, particularly in these economically difficult times. She didn't expect the weapon to leave so much as a dent in a Stormtrooper's armor, but she understood the necessity of weapons fluency.

It just left a sour taste in her mouth.

The nice thing about masquerading as one of her own handmaidens meant that she got just as much weapons training as they did. She hoped she would never have to use it, but history said she would likely need to use her skills more than once before her time in office was up.

She eyed the other RSF members nearby, sizing them up as sparring partners. Most were several years older than her, veterans joining the mandatory session for juniors in order to keep their skills sharp or pass them along. Among her fellow juniors were men and women she recognized mostly from military reviews. Her heart skipped a beat, wondering...

She glanced around the room again, hoping to see a flash of too-blue eyes and a wild mess of black hair. She'd seen him but once at a review a moon ago, but the sight of the beautiful boy at arms had haunted her dreams ever since. But before she could see if he was also in attendance, the commander in charge barked orders to pair up. Emma turned and found herself face-to-face with Nealan Cassidius, a pilot a few years older than her. "Nice to see you again," he said. "Swanraa, right?"

"Yes. Nice to see you as well, Cassidius. Shall we get on with things, then?" Emma asked, hefting her blade.

They kept to a simple strike-block pattern to warm up. "Odd they have us using these archaic weapons, isn't it?" Cassidius asked.

Emma grinned ass he blocked him easily. "I thought the same thing. I suppose everything has its use."

After twenty minutes, the commander called for them to begin freestyle sparring. Emma took a deep breath, hiding her nerves behind a neutral face. Cassidius lunged first, and Emma skipped to the side, his blade glancing off of hers with a sharp _clang_. She might not like swords much, but she was agile and knew when to keep moving to tire out a larger, heavier opponent. Cassidius fit both of those categories, and she had a feeling he would fit in the "overconfident" category as well.

She kept him at bay, dodging and parrying with ease, letting him chase her around the spacious practice yard. Her eyes roved everywhere, marking the movements in his torso for his next swing, the increasing agitation on his face, when she'd need to avoid another sparring pair. She jumped backwards over a fallen comrade easily, barely avoiding a scratch from his partner's sword.

Quickly, she glanced over her shoulder to make sure her way was clear, but she misjudged the distance between her and Cassidius. He swung hard, the flat of his blade smashing into the back of her hand and she dropped her sword with a yelp of pain. She stumbled backwards over the boot of another comrade, falling on her behind. "CASSIDIUS!" a man's voice roared.

Emma glanced up and sucked in a breath. The pilot from the review, with his blue eyes and his mass of blank hair tied back in a tail. He had Cassidius by the collar, sword point dangerously close to pricking his neck. "Apologize to the lady, mate. We're not aiming to maim one another here," the pilot hissed.

Cassidius stammered out an apology before the pilot let him go. He fled while the pilot knelt next to her. "Let me see your hand," he insisted softly.

She offered it and he gently peeled her glove off. "This saved you a cut, milady," he said. She hissed when his fingers pressed a painful spot, tears welling up in her eyes. "And this might be broken. We'll need to get you to the medics."

He helped her to her feet. "Remind me never to spar with Nealan Cassidius ever again," she grumbled, cradling her hand to her chest gingerly and trying not to focus too much on how nice the pilot's arm around her shoulders felt. This was a disaster, she wasn't supposed to get hurt during training, now everyone would know she was the Princess and not just Handmaiden Emmaala...

The pilot chuckled. "Well, better a broken hand than a broken heart, milady. I would recognize that look in Cassidius' eye anywhere: he desires you."

Emma flushed, glacing up at the pilot to make sure he was telling the truth. "I would hope the pilot's academy trained you in better form than that. We have our duty first!"

His smile fell a little at that. "Aye, that we do. I'm Corporal Killianul Joneswise, by the way. I don't believe we've formally met."

"Emmaala Swanraa, handmaiden to Her Highness Princess Cygni. I remember you from the review last month."

His smile returned. "I didn't meet her highness then."

Emma ducked her head. "No, I recall you from the crowd. You're... distinctive."

His smile broadened into a grin and she thought she might perish from embarrassment. "I'm flattered, Lady Swanraa. Though I must say, this injury might detract from your duties to her highness."

She appreciated his effort to steer the conversation to safer waters. "For a time," she grumbled, more about the effort they'd have to make to disguise her injury in formal appearances than anything else. "Perhaps next time I'll just have to choose a sparring partner less willing to bash me to pieces."

She caught his eye at that, and he nodded, smiling down at her. "Perhaps, milady."


	11. Chapter 11

**This takes place in 0 ABY, not that long after the Battle of Yavin 4, so Emma is 18 and Killian is 20.**

 **Prompts: "You don't have to save me. I can take care of myself." and "Emma wants to say I love you but in a special way."**

* * *

Emma didn't know which was more infuriating: the repeated public statements she was required to make in regards to Naboo's continued loyalty and dedication to the Empire, or the increase in guards around her at all times. Perhaps if her guards were RSF and not Imperial Stormtroopers, she would be less irritated, but no. At least two squads of Stormtroopers were assigned to accompany her, wherever she went, at all times.

It made her already infrequent meetings with her fellow conspirators more difficult to attend. She could only pray to the goddess of mercy that the Naboo faction of the rebellion understood her precarious position, that her public persona as Princess Cygni did not reflect on her private beliefs.

They've all played the political game for years; they _had_ to understand.

In a rare moment alone with Killian, several months after the Battle of Yavin 4, she could finally discuss her frustrations with the entire situation. "I only wish I could _do_ something," she ground out, twisting the hems of her robe as she talked. "Some kind of secret symbol or message that would let the people know this is rubbish."

Killian just smiled in sympathy. She knew he understood her frustration because he, too, was bound by duty over desires. "Darling, that's the bad thing about revolution. If you came out in support of it, you'd only make a target of yourself and we need you."

She sighed and leaned against his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her; as ever, she felt safe in his embrace, warm and protected from the world outside. "I know," she said dejectedly. "I just wish they'd take the Stormtrooper guard off of me. It makes me feel like I'm telling the whole world I don't trust our people to protect me. Or worse, that I need protection _from_ our people."

Killian kissed the side of her head. "The people love you, Emma, they know this is just the Empire showboating. The Emperor wants the whole galaxy to know his homeworld is under his protection."

"Yet he had Senator Amidala killed," Emma muttered.

He sighed softly; it was an oft-debated point between them, the matter of the Senator's death and how involved the Emperor was. Emma was convinced it was a direct order, as with the extinction of the Jedi Order. Killian believed it a betrayal and assassination. It was simply a difference in their positions in life, how they viewed it: in the end, the Senator was still dead and the rebellion moved on without her. "You know I'd do everything in my power to protect you, should the Empire suspect you," Killian told her quietly.

Emma scowled to mask her fear. One of the things that had kept her from him recently were endless meetings with the Queen about how they could show support for the Empire with more than words. Kylantha wanted to send some of their peacekeeping force to assist against the rebels. Emma vehemently vetoed the idea on the grounds that diminishing their own forces to fight the rebels elsewhere would instead open up Naboo for a fresh rebel assault. Kylantha insisted that a refusal of support would lead to suspicion and cast doubt on their loyalties. As long as Emma refused to agree to the order, the governing body would suspect her.

In truth, Emma couldn't bear the idea of losing Killian - particularly for a cause he didn't support. As a fighter pilot, he'd be one of the first shipped out. She knew the rebel numbers and the supplies Commanders Organa and Skywalker had assembled in recent months, and plans to liberate more from Empire outposts. Their pilots wouldn't stand a chance.

"You don't have to save me, Killian," she said instead. "I can take care of myself."

"I know you can, milady. I'm just there as an extra pair of hands," he said.

She looked up at him, almost startled at the intensity of his declaration, at the look of confidence and adoration he gave her. And perhaps it's her fear that this was to be the last quiet moment they would have together for months, or perhaps her fear that she would lose the debate to Kylantha and he would be sent off to die that moved her to speak. Any tact or care that she had wanted to take with this moment flew out the window as she was overwhelmed with feeling.

"I love you," she said quietly.

He went still, his eyes searching hers. "Emma?" he whispered cautiously.

She started to grin. Her pilot, her brave rebel, struck into shock by an admission they'd both danced around for years. "I am in love with you, Killianul Joneswise," she declared.

His grin could light up the sky at midnight, filling her with joy. "Truly?" he asked.

Emma elbowed him, smirking. "Would I have said so if it wasn't the truth?"

She squeaked in a most un-princess-like manner when he hauled her up onto his lap. "No, my love, you say nothing you do not mean."

Her heart skipped a beat at the significant change in his endearment. "Except when I'm being the Princess," she sighed, "trying to saite a restless and frightened population."

He cupped her cheek, making her look at him. "Your words may come from the Empire, darling, but were you able to speak from your heart you would ask for peace and stability all the same. Your meaning is sincere: you just want your people to be safe. It's one of the many reasons why I love you."

Emma smiled, resting her forehead against his. "Could you say that again? Just the last part."

He chuckled, brushing his nose against hers. "I love you, Emmaala Swanraa."


End file.
